


Fading Stories

by OakenDurinsons



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic, Everybody Lives, Heartbreaking, M/M, Post-Battle of Five Armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 12:44:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5164277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OakenDurinsons/pseuds/OakenDurinsons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Bilbo and Thorin get older, some things start to fade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fading Stories

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine Thorin and Bilbo getting older and Bilbo develops alzheimer's.

Bilbo woke up to an unfamiliar feeling. In the past few years, the hobbit became accustomed to cold hard cave floors, dirt caked to his feet and legs, hair on both his head and feet matted, clothes torn and dirty. The state of his nails alone was enough to cause him anxiety. He remembered how the company teased him about his fondness for handkerchiefs. His reasoning, however, is that if one is to get dirty, it is best to have something to minimize the damage. This feeling, however, was so pleasant that it was alarming. There was a pressure on his back and he felt warm enough to heat a furnace. The burglar woke with a start and pushed the object that was pressing on his back off the bed. He was scared, however, until he realized what he just unceremoniously pushed off the bed was his husband, the dwarven king of Erebor.

“Dearest,” Thorin said disgruntled, “may I ask why I have been attacked by my husband in my own home?” The king raised an eyebrow and sat up, and to Bilbo’s embarrassment, was covered in nothing but a sheet from the waist-down.

Bilbo turned red as he sheepishly replied, “I-I thought that, well, you know when I get a little, er,” Bilbo trailed off as Thorin stood up, letting the sheet fall.

“Bilbo, did you forget where you were again?”

“I don’t know why, but sometimes I forget things I should know, like I’m still on the quest,” Bilbo said, placing his head in his hands and gripping his hair, once honey brown, now turning a slight gray. In this moment he realized that the journey was more than a few years off.

“Love, we’ve been over this,” Thorin reached out to Bilbo and caressed his cheek, climbing into bed behind him. He wrapped his arms around Bilbo’s waist, speaking into his ear softly. “It may be hard to remember things sometimes. We’re getting older, the both of us. It’s been many a decade since we were both spry enough to race a ram, or sharp enough to remember our way to the forges each time. It’s all part of Mahal’s great gift of life,” Thorin placed a kiss to Bilbo’s neck, reassuring him that he was safe in his arms.

Bilbo turned and took a closer look at Thorin, trying to take in what he had forgotten. Thorin’s hair was now more than half silver, long and loose over his shoulders. His beard was longer now than it had been when they met, resting on his collarbones. Bilbo then turned his attention to his king’s body. He looked at muscles that were once hard and taught from working in a forge and battle, softened, but still bearing scars from past battles. Bilbo recalled the battle as he looked at the large scar on his husband’s stomach, large but straight. Luckily, the blade went through without jagging the flesh.

The Hobbit then searched for the eyes that he knew so well, the blue and bright spheres of joy that he first saw in his home that first magical night. They were the same eyes he sported now, full of youth but centuries old. Those eyes he treasured above all else, above his Shire, books, and his armchair, for those eyes were the home he promised himself to find that night long ago.

Bilbo smiled brightly at his husband. ”What a wonderful tale Mahal has spun us. And what a brilliant gift this life is,”


End file.
